Unalienable Rights
Chapter 34

Copyright© 2012 by Robert McKay

The call came just as I was beginning to think about lunch. I'd started another book, and was getting near the end of the new one, for it wasn't very long. It wasn't all that long ago that I didn't read romances, nor Christian fiction, and here I was finding that Christian romances were – when the writing was good – some of the best fiction I'd ever come across. I had Marla to thank for some of that, for she devoured romance novels ... though judging from the covers, they were the sort of bodice-rippers that I'd gotten fed up with years ago. Maybe Cecelia's atypical, but if I tried to rip her bodice off – or whatever she happened to be wearing – I'd have a fight on my hands. She cares too much about her clothes to let me destroy 'em in the pursuit of what she so gladly shares. On the other hand I don't think the people in bodice-rippers are married...

I checked the caller ID when the phone rang and saw that it was the MVD. Since I couldn't think of any reason why anyone else would call me from that bit of bureaucracy, I guessed it was my contact. And it was.

"I've got the information for you," he said, and rattled it off. I scribbled as fast as I could on my pad, knowing I'd be able to read my writing and abbreviations later even if they were hieroglyphics to anyone else. "I just hope they don't catch me on this one."

"You need a lawyer, I'll pay for it," I said. "It'll be worth it, if this is the guy I think it is."

"I hope so," he said, and was gone.

I looked at what I'd written. Richard Charnock, an address on Buena Ventura Road ... I didn't recognize the address, so I grabbed my book of Albuquerque maps and looked it up. I frequently use MapQuest, but I like my hard copy maps too. It turned out Charnock was between Juan Tabo and Dorothy down in the southeastern corner of the Northeast Heights. I wasn't real familiar with the area, though I'd walked in it a couple or three times. I knew there was a park north of him, and a trail that ran along the southern side of the freeway from Tramway to Eubank ... I couldn't remember whether the trail went further west than Eubank, or even if I'd ever known.

I turned to my computer and put in the name to do a Google search. I guess I'm just old-fashioned, but "google" will never be a verb with me. As I typed in the name it hit me that it reminded me of two old Christian authors – Richard Baxter and Stephen Charnock. I don't have any of Baxter's stuff, but I own and have read most of Charnock's volumes on what he called The Existence and Attributes of God. If this guy was who I thought he was, the only resemblance between him and a preacher was the name.

There wasn't a whole lot available on Google, so I went to the site of a service I use for background checks. For a monthly fee, I get to go to the site and use their database to search for public information about pretty much anyone. I could do it the hard way, checking with county clerks and the Social Security Administration and whatnot, but they do the work for me. Doing a background check is a lot easier than it was when I got started in this business, thanks to computers and the Worldwide Web.

With the address and name I was able to locate him. I didn't find anything that seemed helpful, but I wouldn't have known it wasn't helpful if I hadn't checked. I closed down my browser screens and, while I was there, checked my business e-mail. I reported a few pieces of spam, and closed that down too.

I swiveled back to the desk, and picked up the phone. I hit a speed dial button, and in a few minutes there came a voice. "Missing Persons, Lieutenant Chin."

"Hey, Martie, this is Darvin Carpenter." I'd met Martha Chin a time or two; she's a tall woman who's partly Chinese and partly Hispanic, and partly something else, if I remembered right. "Is Rudy there?"

"Yes. Hold on, please."

I did, and in a minute I heard my best friend's voice. "¿Qué pasa, Darvin?"

"Hey, Rudy. I need you to run wants and warrants on a suspect."

"Your paint thrower?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Okay, dámelo."

I did as he requested, giving him the information – name, address, plate number, make and model of vehicle. All he really needed was the name or the plate number, but I knew that Rudy, like me, would never turn down information. It's the lifeblood of an investigation.

 
There is more of this chapter...
The source of this story is Finestories

To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account (Why register?)

Get No-Registration Temporary Access*

* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.

Close